Trials Under The Moon

Dinner

All the tier 3 omegas walked in a scattered group towards the pack house. It was only a few yards from the large barn that we used to change clothes. But with wet hair, and the chilly night breeze it felt like miles. We approached a massive building pieced together by ancient grey bricks. Several large windows overlooked the wide yard beneath. We must be in the back of the pack house then. There was no drive way, no cars. Only grass, a few flower beds and a fountain. A thin pattern of stone steps weaved around the fountain and the surrounding flower beds. It was actually quite beautiful. Evil things often are.

I counted 6 marble slab steps leading up to the solid dark wood double doors. The Shrew was the first to reach the top of the stairs and threw both doors open. None of us wasted any time shuffling into the pack house. I tried to keep up with Zoe, but my eyes were constantly pulled to various pieces of decor and the overall wicked elegance of the house interior. It looked more like a castle rather than a pack house. The floor was solid black marble and echoed with the clacking high heels of several beautiful women walking throughout the ground floor. Straight ahead, directly beneath the pack house front door, were two curved staircases that joined at the top of the second story. A whimsical gold railing, full of twists and loops, connected the bottom of both stairs to the top. The main entry way was clear and open, only a few tables, and two wide hallways leading in either direction.

My time to observe was cut short as we were herded into the grand hallway to the right. There were many doors on either side of our path, but when we nearly reached the end, a sleek metal swinging door was pushed back into another small hallway. No doubt to help keep it out of sight, a servants entry to the kitchen.

Through the kitchen door, my eyes widened at the almost futuristic look of the kitchen appliances. Everything looked brand new and untouched. It reminded me of an expensive set up on some extreme cooking show. The entire room smelt of pine and polish, which is also probably the work of the omegas.

Right away, everyone began assigning themselves a station, in groups of twos and threes. It wasn't difficult to tell that they've done this many times before. I hated them. All of them. Lower omegas or not, their pack was responsible for the death of my own.

Then, The Shrew began to shriek, "Alright runts! Tonight is roast beef baked with garden vegetables, seasoned diced potatoes, buttered green beans and chocolate pudding. Hop to it, we're late enough as it is!" After posting the list of food, and recipes for the evening on a cork bulletin board, she exited the kitchen.

In order to stay out of the way and go unnoticed, I didn't speak. I just followed Zoe's instructions and did as she asked me to do. It was our job to wash the potatoes, dice them and spread them out onto 5 large baking pans. Two other omegas were helping us, a boy and a girl. They each mirrored Zoe's corpse-like appearance. Sunken ocean blue eyes, pale skin and frail bodies. But they worked diligently nonetheless.

About 15 minutes into cutting the potatoes, the young boys' curiosity gave out. He looked up at me, and furrowed his brows, like he was trying to figure something out. "You're new.." he finally said.

I glanced at Zoe who was still busy cutting. "Yeah..I am." I replied.

He pushed further, "Are you from Northside Pack then? A survivor?"

"A survivor?" I placed the knife down. "Your pack stormed into my home, used guns to murder our innocents and tore my only family away from me. Hit me over the head and dropped me in a wasteland barn just so I could be a slave to the very wolves who took EVERYTHING FROM ME!"

The boy parted his lips to speak, but decided to shut them. Good.

"They're still using guns?" My eyes slid to the other girl, next to him, across from Zoe and I. Why did she sound so surprised? Still, Zoe said nothing.

I picked up the knife and continued working, but I could feel his eyes still on me. "What?!" I snapped, looking back at him.

After a few seconds, "I'm sorry for your loss. Black Moon did the same to my pack... Crescent Lake. I was the only one who was brought back here and forced to be a tier 3 omega...just like you."

My face softened at his words. I didn't pity him, but my anger towards him wasn't warranted.

He continued, "That was 8 years ago. No other wolves have been spared since then, until you." Was that supposed to make me feel lucky? To feel better?

Well it didn't.

"I'm Brandon. This here is Ava. And I'm assuming you know Zoe, seeing as how you've been glued to her side since you arrived. We're all 14." A small sideways smile cracked his lips. "How old are you, what's your name?" Brandon, Zoe and Ava could've been siblings. All with lifeless red-brown hair and cool glass eyes.

"You ask a lot of questions Brandon. I don't intend on making friends, or staying here." I stated.

Brandon's gaze stayed on the potatoes but he raised his brow, and scoffed. "You think the rest of us want to be here? Many of us were taken, and thrown into a life of "service". Others were cast down to Tier 3 Omegas as a punishment for various transgressions. But No one just, leaves."

I wasn't going to argue with him. Wasn't worth my breath. It was probably best to share as little with any of these pups as possible.

Zoe chimed in. "Her name is Bella, now stop pestering her B." To my surprise, he listened.

Our job was finished rather quickly, and after offering to help anyone else, Zoe and I began to prepare the large platters on which the food would sit. As well as the thick stack of plates that needed to be set at the tables.

Within 2 hours. Everything was ready. The large platters were carried by some of the stronger looking male omegas and a few females placed one plate in front of each chair.

The dining hall was magnificent. One long table of mahogany stretched from one end of the hall to the other. Every chair was wood based and was cushioned with rich crimson velvet. The same velvet material was draped in front of the windows with gold braided cords pinching them back.

I hated it. I hated how beautiful it all was. I hated how perfect it all was.

I hated how these murderers were going to feast in such a regal setting while my own dining hall was no doubt painted with blood.

My jaw tightened at the thought, and my fingers curled into fists.

Cold fingers brushed against my own, and I turned to see Zoe motion for me to follow her. "Females line the wall on this side of the room, males line up on the other. We just stand here and wait to be needed. Don't look up, don't speak, just nod your head if anyone asks you for something." I nodded in response.

That earned a chuckle from Zoe. She took her place beside me, with her hands at her front with her fingers laced together. I mimicked her stance.

The kitchen was to our right and To our far left, two large doors were propped open, where men and women elegantly sauntered in. They began taking their seats, talking amongst themselves and avoided looking in our direction. As if we weren't even there. As if we were nothing.

Murderers.

With my head down, and my eyes up, I peaked at the crowd. One of them, I recognized, was the dark haired brute that kidnapped me. He was no longer wearing the fighting leathers and heavy gear that I had seen him in just this morning. Instead, he wore dark denim jeans, a fitted black T-shirt, and his inky black hair was damp, unbound and tucked behind his ears. So casual. So care free. So clean from the blood he had spilled just hours before.

"Damien!" A strong voice rang out. It was Another male approaching, and greeting him with a slap on the back. "Good to be home brother! Goddess, what a rush am I right??" He asked excitedly.

Damien, the well built muscular male didn't even smile. His sea blue eyes remained emotionless, almost bored. He coolly responded, "Calm down Eric, you'll embarrass yourself." Eric, from what I could see, was the exact opposite of Damien- sandy blonde hair, cut shorter with a slight curl to it. It clashed perfectly with his fresh olive skin tone, and deep brown eyes.

"Oh come on, you know it was fun!" Eric boasted. In my core, I knew what he was referring to. It was my pack. He was high on adrenaline and victory. My jaw clenched again. You haven't won yet, I thought to myself.

Rolling his eyes, Damien combed his fingers through the loose hair falling in his face. Those knowing eyes landed on mine.

I waited two full seconds before returning my gaze to the floor.

Maybe I'm stupid.

Maybe deep down I wanted to die. Wanted to make him so angry, by staring, that he came over and killed me on the spot.

But I definitely wanted him to know that I hadn't forgotten. He took me. He killed a part of me. And stole away Avery from me. I will find her. And If she's dead, then Damien will pay the same price in full.

-

Dinner had dragged on for hours. And apparently, omegas were not allowed to sit or leave until dismissed. My knees were locking up and my stomach was twisting with hunger.

Cruel.

Murderers.

My wondering eyes landed on Brandon across the room. He gave me a slight smile, and a wink of his eye, before looking back down. I decided to scrunch my nose in response and look elsewhere.

The conversations faltered when heavy steps were heard just outside the dining hall. A man walked in. Must have been late 50's, but he was far from a withering old hag. His hair was mostly dark blonde with silvery grays scattered throughout. The sleeves of his charcoal button down were rolled up to his elbows. Both hands were tucked into the pockets of his black slacks.

He wasn't built large like a warrior. Nor frail like an omega, but somewhere in between. Though the scars on his forearms were proof that he had indeed seen battle.

I knew who this male was the moment I saw him. My lip actually curled up, threatening to show my teeth.

Murderer.

Man, I really did want to die.

Zoe elbowed me in the rib cage, urging me to look back to the floor.

Everyone that was seated, stood and spoke in unison, "Good evening, Alpha Black."

Alpha Victor Black.

Raging fiery hate boiled in my chest. I could almost feel my temperature increasing to a scorching degree. An attack is ordered, or at least approved, by an alpha. This Alpha.

Even if I had to wait one hundred years, I would make sure he paid. They'll all pay.

Bringing me here, letting me live, was the biggest mistake they could've made.

I allowed myself one more peek at the alpha before dinner was over, and we had to clean up after. One last peek to etch his face to my memory. His sandy peppered hair, his piercing blue eyes, and even the crows feet pulling at his eyes.

Although it wasn't surprising, it was definitely disappointing to find out that all 30, tier three omegas, had to share the scraps of food left over. Some of them got aggressive like rabid dogs, while others quietly picked at what they could grab.

No wonder they all looked to be on the brink of death.

I hadn't enough pride to turn away from the scraps. Though I made a note to scold myself later. A few bites of potatoes and beef was all I could manage. Carbs and protein. I couldn't let myself get too weak if I was to stand any chance of survival and escape.

-

Back in the barn, Zoe offered to share her stall with me, despite the small size. She seemed nervous, like she was afraid I'd turn her down. Of course I accepted. I couldn't waste time trying to gain the trust of another omega. And oddly enough, I trusted Zoe. A trust I never expected to hand over so easily. But it was easy to trust her. Something strong was pulling at me to trust her.

I helped her clear out the stack of hay, opposite of her make shift bed, the stack of moldy hay that I had woken up on.

If either of us continued to breathe that in, we'd be in serious trouble. I'm positive it's already affected her. And I doubt Black Moon is especially caring of their sick omegas.

I managed to swipe two empty burlap potato sacks from the kitchen garbage, dismissing Zoe's protests. I knew it was going to be a cold night.

Thankfully, Zoe had an old pair of scissors in her two drawer nightstand/dresser. It wasn't much, but I was able to cut the sacks and lay them over the packed hay to offer some cushion from the dry quills.

So we cozied up under her tattered quilt together, and Zoe was quick to fall asleep.

But I couldn't.

My mind was too busy replaying the cries, the screams, the pleas. The gunshots.

My parents.

My brother, Elijah, he would never become alpha. Never find his mate.

And I'd never hold them again, never be comforted by their scents again.

When I was certain that Zoe was deep in sleep, I finally released the tears that had been burning behind my eyes. I chocked back sobs, but otherwise allowed myself this pain filled release.

Because I would not permit myself to cry again. Not until my lands were my own again. Not until they all paid.

Then, exhaustion took over.